Getting By
by Asterie-Smiles
Summary: In which Lance worries about the Brotherhood's financial situation and Pietro just wants to dance the night away. Slash, Pietrance.


**Getting By  
****by S-Star**

**Fandom: **X-Men: Evolution  
**Disclaimer: **Marvel (and some random TV companies), not me.  
**Pairing: **Lance/Pietro  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Summary: **In which Lance worries about the Brotherhood's financial situation and Pietro just wants to dance the night away. Slash, Pietrance.  
**Beta: **Thanks to Minnow and DKFairy for language and character checking respectively.  
**AN: **Ah, a return to Evo...This was written and beta'd many moons ago, but lost in a sea of un-alphabetised folders. I found it when organising my hard disk, revamped it, and am now posting it, almost two years after its conception, despite still not being satisfied with it.  
Inspired by the (then new) Idlewild album 'Warnings/Promises'.

**Getting By **

_As we cling to the nightclub walls,  
We whisper the words, we whisper them wrong  
So we screamed out the wrong words into our own song  
And with a kiss that tasted like drugs  
Which taste like we'll never, ever make it home:  
Open up your arms and say  
I can't throw it all away.  
_-Idlewild, 'Blame It On Obvious Ways'

--

'We're out of money,' Lance says one day, and he knows Pietro can't say he's surprised, not with the way Freddy eats. It's clear he's never really thought about it much before, though: Lance has always been the responsible one. Pietro's just the pretty face who fronts the act; not that he'll ever admit it.

'We can get more,' Pietro replies, flicking through the TV channels absently before sitting back and snapping open a can of soda.

'Uh...' Lance sits on the arm of his seat – the only decent chair they'll have until someone fixes the sofa springs – and touches his shoulder. 'Well, Magneto and Mystique were the ones who gave us the cash, so unless you can track them down, we're pretty much screwed.'

'So get a job,' he says, 'and get outta the way, you're blocking my view.'

Lance sighs resignedly. Sure, he didn't exactly expect the great Pietro Maximoff to actually take action, but he still thinks his annoyance is justified. 'Why can't _you _get a job?'

'Lance, I'm the leader of this team, remember? The one who holds it all together? I'm way too busy to work for your keep.'

'Too busy?' Lance raises an eyebrow. 'Yet you have time to watch...is this a Queer As Folk rerun?'

Pietro actually blushes for what must be the first time ever. It doesn't suit him. 'You got a problem with that?'

'You're the only guy in the world who brags about how many form-fitting spandex costumes he can make in a minute; I did kinda suspect. And going to the dance with four girls? Blatant overcompensation. But it's still no excuse for you not to help us with the money problem.'

'You heard me, I'm the leader; I shouldn't have to do the grunt work.'

Lance clenches his fist almost reflexively, and a tremor runs through the floor, yanking the TV lead out of its socket and jolting the chair. He doesn't think Pietro understands anything about real life. Though he's not sure how Pietro lived before coming to Bayville, he's acted like a spoilt brat since he first walked through the door of the Brotherhood house. Lance, however, knows what it's like to have to work for a living. 'Damn it, Maximoff, can't you take responsibility for anything?'

Pietro is out of his seat and shoving Lance backwards before he can even blink. 'Look, you can work your ass off to make Blob fatter if you want, but I can be in and out of the grocery store with dinner before they even notice the door's open, so until this is actually gonna affect me, it's your problem.'

Before Lance can think of an argument, Pietro is gone, and he's left to figure out how the hell he can fix the ancient TV set without blowing up the whole house.

Finally, he shrugs and sinks into Pietro's seat. Maybe he'll just wait and make Todd do it.

--

The X-Geeks always look at them funny. Not just in a 'you're a threat to humanity' kinda way, but as if they're something to pity. Lance often wonders what it would have been like if he'd stayed with them, kept his huge, luxurious, _free_ bedroom, enjoyed the giant meals the wealthy Professor supplied them with...

'Here, picked you up a sandwich.' A gust of wind carries the voice before Pietro arrives beside him in a blur, holding out a packet labelled tuna and sweetcorn and grinning triumphantly, as if he hasn't stolen exactly the same lunches for them every other day this week.

Lance sighs and smiles indulgently, undoing the wrapper and taking a grateful bite. Last Wednesday, when he realised they could barely afford cafeteria food, he started to think that maybe there was some benefit to Pietro's larceny. When he was with the X-Geeks, Spyke told him about how Pietro got jailed before joining the Brotherhood. Lance laughed at the time, because it sounded just like another of Pietro's dumb games, a way to show off. Now, though, it's actually pretty useful.

Pietro elbows him hard in the ribs. 'Hey, what's eating you?'

'Nothing, just thinking.'

'Could hurt,' he replies, an old joke but a favourite. He finishes his second sandwich and reaches for Lance's. 'So what were you thinking about? Were you pondering deep, meaningful world problems or just mooning over Kitty-cat?'

'Just wondering where our next meal's coming from,' Lance says dryly. 'Oh, and you can help yourself to that sandwich.'

'Hey, thanks!'

Lance rolls his eyes. 'I was thinking of applying for that weekend job at Pizza Plaza. I mean, the hours are bad, but I'd get paid weekly and it should be enough to cover food at least. I think they're cutting off the phone at the end of the month, so that's one less thing to worry about.'

'No phone?'

'Come on, I'm the only one that uses it anyway. Besides, you've still got that cell Magneto gave you, right?'

'I guess.' Pietro looks down, licking the last of the mayo off his finger. 'We really are fucked, huh?'

'Now he gets it,' Lance mutters, covering his eyes with his hands. 'You gonna help do something, or leave it all to me?'

'Toad and Blob are managing,' Pietro says, which isn't really a reply, but better than an outright no.

'Yeah, they decided they wanted to split the last of the cash evenly between us, so I gave 'em their shares.'

Pietro's eyes widen. 'There's still cash? Enough to split? Why didn't you tell me this earlier? How much do I get? And why am I stealing this shit when I could be buying perfectly good mystery meat without even leaving the campus?'

'Yes, just about, because I figured you'd blow it on candy and hair gel, very little, and because you can.'

Pietro nods slowly, but then scoffs, 'Seriously, Lance, candy and hair gel? They're easy pickings. No, I think I'm gonna splash out and take us somewhere.'

Lance raises an eyebrow. 'Can't you remember the last time you said that? I don't know how much liquor it took to get Blob drunk, but I never wanna experience that again. Besides, we don't have those IDs any more.'

'Quit worrying, I'll get it all sorted. And it'll be just you and me this time, since those two fuckwits aren't even _trying _to help our situation.'

'Why can't we just use your share to pay off the rest of the electricity? Cuz mine plus savings still only covers about half of your damn TV time.'

Pietro stands up and folds his arms stubbornly. 'Jeez, stop being so negative. You should stop looking forward and live for the now. The furthest ahead you should worry about is what you're gonna wear tonight.'

'But the bills aren't going to pay themselves, and you know you won't be able to go without Queer As Folk for long.'

For a second, Pietro seems less cocky and almost – though Lance doesn't quite believe it – sincere. 'God, you sound like you're my fucking mother or something. It's more important that you forget about all this,' he says. 'Now I gotta go do my homework for next period, see you in class!'

He's gone in a flash, and Lance is left picking at the remains of a lump of tuna left in his sandwich packet. He can practically _feel_ Jean Grey looking at him from across the courtyard, worried and still pitying. He wonders how much she can read, and whether she knows he knows that if he just swallowed his pride enough to ask, the great Professor would help the Brotherhood with all their problems.

He suddenly, irreverently, wonders whether she knows about Pietro, and whether that's why she sometimes gives him overly-concerned looks. She's meant to be a good guy, nice and very concerned with human rights, being a mutant, but if she does know he's gay...is the extra pity due to genuine sympathy or political correctness? Then again, she's lighter on all the others than on Lance; maybe she's just pissed that he's poisoning Shadowcat's mind or some other bullshit.

He gets up slowly, shaking his head and debating whether it's worth hunting down Pietro and asking him to steal some aspirin. As he tosses the sandwich wrappers into the trash, Jean touches him on the shoulder.

He tenses. 'What do _you_ want?'

'I just want you to know...if you need anything, anything at all, we're all here for you. The Professor will help.'

'That's nice, but I think I'll survive.' He wrenches free of her and strides off towards English class.

'Look, I don't want you doing anything stupid. Any of you.'

He stops and looks back at her, hoping she's picking up on his hate. 'Save your pity, Red,' he spits simply, walking away without looking back.

--

'Hey, what's with the clean clothes, yo? Got a hot date?'

Lance hits his head against the doorframe and wonders why he ever agreed to this, and when he looks up, Todd's still there, staring at him in amusement. 'Unfortunately, no.'

'So why the get-up?' He hops up to Lance and pokes him curiously. 'I didn't know you owned any jeans that weren't torn to shreds.'

Lance swats him away and goes to sit on the bottom step, amazed that the quickest person alive can take so damn long getting ready for a night out. 'Not everyone flinches at the sight of soap, you know.'

'Hey, just cuz your life sucks, you don't gotta take it out on me. Besides, I like the way I smell.'

Lance wrinkles his nose.

'So who're you going out with, anyway?'

'Pietro.'

'So it _is_ a hot date!' A wicked grin spreads across Todd's face, and Lance can't believe he thought Todd would go away if he gave an answer.

'Who's got a hot date?' asks Freddy, walking in from the kitchen with a slightly mouldy sandwich in his hand.

'Lance and Pietro,' Todd says, making kissy faces.

'It's not a date,' Lance repeats in exasperation, and Todd raises an eyebrow.

'So why ain't we invited, yo?'

'Because no one wants a repeat of the last time Blob here got wasted, and whatever you think, that smell is fucking obnoxious, man.'

'Hey, the water's been off, you know that!'

'Todd, I paid that, it was turned back on nearly two weeks ago.'

'Then...uh...I guess it's time for me to shower, huh?'

'I think Pietro's still in the bathroom,' says Fred, but then he appears at the bottom of the stairs.

Todd whistles. 'Okay, it's gotta be a date. No one dresses like that without someone to impress.'

Lance has to admit that Pietro does look better than he usually does on their nights out, in tight black jeans and a fitted burgundy sleeveless top, which is obviously new – and, Lance's conscience adds, probably stolen.

Pietro raises a quizzical eyebrow at Lance. 'Date?'

'He's just upset that he's not invited,' Lance explains, and Todd hops upstairs huffily, muttering insults under his stagnant breath, a smell no level of hygiene will ever be able to fix. Fred shrugs and heads back to the kitchen, and Pietro's outside in the passenger seat of the Jeep before Lance can say another word.

'Hey, slowpoke, get moving, I don't wanna have to stand in line!'

Lance sighs and follows him out. 'Right then, where to?'

'I was thinking The Manor first, and then maybe—'

'It's the entry fee that costs, let's just stick with one, okay?'

Pietro folds his arms sulkily, but doesn't argue, and Lance puts the Jeep into gear and pulls away from the Brotherhood house.

Lance doesn't like clubs as much as Pietro does, but Pietro's paying so he hasn't got much say. Besides, he has to admit there's something calming about the way the music pounds through him; meaning he never has a second to hear himself think or worry before he gets swept away by another wave of sound.

Pietro tugs him by the wrist down a spiral staircase to the club's basement, and a drink is shoved into Lance's hand before he can choke on the stale smoke in the air.

As he leans against the wall and watches Pietro's confident, fluid movement to the bar, he wonders why Pietro comes to this place so often. It may be the fact that the girls serving the drinks obviously don't care how old you are as long as you have cash out ready. But Lance is pretty sure it's because every pair of eyes is on his clinging jeans as he leans over to shout his order in the bartender's ear, and at least five people tug on his arm, silently asking to dance, as he weaves his way back to Lance's spot.

'You know, we're here for your benefit. Why aren't you out there making out with some random chick...or guy?' Pietro smirks and Lance takes a defensive sip of his Jack Daniels and coke.

'I think they'd rather have you,' he says, gesturing with his drink at the eyes glancing at them enviously.

'Hey, what kind of a leader would I be if I weren't gorgeous and charismatic? I can't help being the hottest thing in here, but I'd say you're a close second. So go find someone and forget all that shit you're carrying round. It's not just your problem, you gotta realise that. Wanna refill?'

Lance doesn't have time to reply before Pietro's gone again, and he's not sure he could have come up with anything to say, anyway, because he's still trying to figure out the comment. It was part compliment, part chastisement, and all in super-fast Pietro-speak, which takes some effort to understand, even though he's lived with it for so long. He sips his drink and watches Pietro talking to some guy at the bar. He's quite good-looking: short, dark hair and pale skin - definitely older than Pietro.

Pietro's hand runs up his arm seductively, and Lance raises his glass to his lips, finding it empty and wondering if Pietro even remembers that he's meant to be fetching him a refill: he seems to be doing a better job of forgetting than Lance.

As Pietro's long fingers move up the guy's neck, Lance decides that if he has to watch this all evening he needs more alcohol, and that clearly isn't going to happen soon. He strides through the crowd, less adept than Pietro at dodging people, and is greeted by a familiar smirk when he finally reaches Pietro's side.

'Glad you could make it,' he says, passing over Lance's drink. The dark haired guy's talking to someone else now, a redhead, and Lance feels a kind of vindictive pleasure, though he's not sure what exactly happened.

'He got away, huh?' Lance asks, pointing at the guy's back.

Pietro raises an eyebrow. 'Got away? Lesson number one, no one 'gets away' from me.' Lance rolls his eyes. 'Seriously, he's not my type. Guy's so pale I might as well have been talking to a corpse. Nah, Tom's only good for one thing,' he says, holding out his prize to Lance.

'You know, if you're gonna whore yourself, don't you think it'd be more useful if you asked for money instead of drugs?' he asks, picking up one of the joints. 'Besides, if you wanted pot you coulda just asked; a coupla guys at school grow it in their back yard.'

Pietro shakes his head. 'I wanted _good _shit, Lance. Even a whole bed of their stuff wouldn't get you high.'

'Maybe not you with your stupid speedy metabolism, but it's fine for the rest of us.' Lance looks down to see his drink's empty again, and gestures for another refill.

Pietro shakes his head again and somehow whips a lighter out from under his impossibly tight clothes. The sweet smell mixes with the smoke already in the air, and Lance coughs. Pietro laughs and takes a drag, closing his eyes blissfully before exhaling a steady stream of smoke into Lance's face.

'Want a puff?' he asks, holding it out; Lance shakes his head no.

'I gotta drive, remember?'

'What should it matter, you're gonna be wasted by then anyway.'

'I am not gonna be wasted.'

'Alvers, if you aren't drunk enough to take your mind off the money by the end of the night, or at least drunk enough to find someone to help take your mind off the money, this whole thing is gonna be a pointless waste of time, and you know I don't like wasting my time.'

Lance can see at least three things wrong with that sentence, but lets it slide because Pietro's being selfless, and that doesn't happen often.

'Fine, you can drive.'

'If you're sure,' Pietro replies as he takes another hit of pot and asks the bartender for absinthe, shooting Lance a wicked grin.

After a few minutes of just drinking and enjoying the truly awful music that's just come on, Pietro frowns at what's left of his joint. 'Man, why is it taking so long to get fucked?'

'Maybe you need someone to get high with. I'm sure Tom and his mates over there would love your company.'

'I told you, not my type. But you see that girl with him?'

'The one that looks like Kitty?'

'Yeah, that's Tamara. She's in my geography class. Looks like Pryde but doesn't talk like a Valley girl and actually has a brain. _And_ she's been staring at you for about fifteen minutes. Why don't you grace her with _your _company?'

'She's not my type.'

'Not your type? Lance, she's like every girl you've dated since I've known you. Except better, cuz I picked her out.'

'And none of those worked out, so it's probably time for a change, right?'

Pietro sighs and puts down his drink. 'Why are you being such a downer? I actually _like _you, Alvers, but you're so ungrateful that I'm almost sorry I didn't ask Toad along instead!'

Lance can only look at Pietro's angry expression for a few seconds before he bursts out laughing, and Pietro glares at him. 'What's so funny?'

'You know, when you're not being an arrogant bastard, you're actually an okay person.'

'Gee, thanks. Why don't you put that in a greeting card?'

'Think I might. So, Tamara, huh?'

Pietro shakes his head in amusement, but doesn't question Lance's sudden change of heart.

'Hold on a sec, I'll just get her over here.' And Pietro's gone, with a hint of superspeed that makes Lance slightly nauseous.

As Lance watches Pietro chatting easily to Tamara, Tom and the others, he leans heavily on the bar and tries to get rid of the dizziness. 'I hate alcohol,' he mutters to no one in particular, ordering another Jack Daniels and Coke. He doesn't like the way it always makes him woozy and headachy before the buzz kicks in, and wonders if he's just drinking the wrong stuff: Pietro never seems to feel any bad effects before he's bouncing off the walls, though it takes far stronger drinks to get him there.

He sips his new drink, and the girl behind the bar gives him a concerned look. 'You okay?'

'Yeah, fine,' he mutters, nodding so she'll understand him over the music.

'Hey, Lance, this is Tamara. Tamara, Lance.' Pietro stands in front of him, girl in tow. She laughs and waves.

'Hi. Wow, Pietro told me you were cute, but...'

Lance glares at Pietro, who shrugs. 'What? Matchmaking's interesting, geography class is duller than daytime TV.'

'Uh...nice to meet you,' Lance says awkwardly. 'Sorry, this is really bad timing. I just gotta go to the bathroom. Be back in a sec.'

Weaving slightly, he starts to head off, but Pietro catches him by the wrist after a few paces. 'What was that all about?'

'What?'

'That! You know, the sudden bailing on a girl you've only just met?'

'I need to go to the bathroom, Pietro. Do you have a problem with that?'

'God, are you always this miserable when you drink? Cuz it looks new from here, and it's not good.'

'It just takes a while for me to get drunk enough to dance it all away, that's all.' He heads into the bathroom and Pietro follows, determined, and waits for him to finish.

'At least give Tamara a chance, you were going to a minute ago. What's with the change of heart?'

'God, I shouldn't drink when I'm depressed,' Lance murmurs, and thankfully, he's pretty sure Pietro doesn't hear. 'I just don't think screwing some random chick's really gonna take my mind off all this shit. I mean, she'll be kissing me and I'll just be trying to figure out how much money I'm wasting buying her drinks, y'know?' He laughs weakly.

Pietro looks concerned. 'Lance, are you okay, man? I never figured you'd be the type to turn down a girl like that. I mean, c'mon, you are pretty desperate.' He smirks and Lance rolls his eyes, which doesn't help the drunkenness any.

'Look, why don't you go find some random guy and do whatever works for you—' Lance gestures absently - 'and I'll go to the all night McDonald's or whatever, eat the booze away and see you at home.'

'Because tonight. Is. About. You,' Pietro says, slower than Lance has ever heard him speak before.

'It's your money, you're meant to enjoy it, not get dragged down by—'

Before Lance can blink, Pietro's in front of him, pulling him down into a kiss. It's only a few seconds long, and Lance is frozen, but he can taste the mixture of pot and alcohol in Pietro's mouth before they break apart.

Pietro laughs, giggles even. 'I think that shit's finally kicking in,' he grins.

Lance is completely still, shocked, and Pietro looks at him knowingly. 'See, that took your mind off the whole money thing, right? Now go find Tamara, multiply that by a coupla hundred, and then tell me my way doesn't work.'

Lance rests one hand on the nearest sink. 'I am _so_ drunk.'

'I know, but since she is, too, I don't think it's really gonna matter.'

'No, I mean really drunk,' he says, turning back to Pietro and pulling him into another kiss, rough and messy and _way_ better than any he's had with Kitty. The taste in Pietro's mouth is stronger this time, as Pietro weaves a hand through his hair and pulls him closer; and Lance can't make up his mind whether it's disgusting or intoxicating or a strange combination of both: kinda like Pietro himself.

A sudden noise makes them jump apart, and Pietro nearly collapses with laughter when he realises he's backed into the hand dryer.

Lance can't help laughing with him, and when they can talk without giggling, he says, 'Okay, maybe your way works.'

'Told you so. See, I'm always right. That's why I'm the leader and you're just a minion.' He smirks at Lance, who wonders vaguely whether you can get high by kissing someone who is, and then rejects the idea with the small part of his logic that the alcohol hasn't yet shut down.

'Sure, whatever. So, you wanna go back out there?'

Pietro nods and smirks again. 'Yep. The night is young, and you're gonna need to be way more drunk than this if I'm gonna get you to dance with me.'

Lance shakes his head, opens the bathroom door, and steps outside, not sure whether he's more or less dizzy after what just happened. With Pietro's arm round his waist, he manages to walk in a straight line to the bar. Tamara's not there anymore, but Tom is, and he glares at Lance, who just grins back.

'Finally, you've got a smile on your face!' says the girl at the bar, handing him a drink. 'That's on the house as a thank you. Your frown was scaring people away.' She winks, Pietro raises an eyebrow in amusement, and Lance feels like laughing again.

--

'Lunch?' Pietro sits next to Lance and holds out today's stolen sandwich, cheese and cucumber this time.

Lance looks at it quizzically and Pietro shrugs. 'Thought you might like a change. It's good, and you're way less likely to get food poisoning from cheese than tuna.'

'I think I'll save it for later,' Lance says, and Pietro frowns.

'What's up with you?'

Lance gives him an "are you kidding?" look. 'It's never a good idea to go out drinking on a school night. I keep saying it but no one ever listens.'

'Hey, it worked, didn't it? Besides, if you're hungover, I have some Excedrin in my locker.'

'What would the fastest guy in the world want with extra caffeine?' asks Lance, and Pietro rolls his eyes.

'You can never have too much caffeine,' he announces. 'Speaking of, they're opening a new Starbucks downtown today, do you wanna come with us after school and help Blob drink them out of business?'

'Starbucks? Pietro, for the price of one cup of their coffee we could pay off all our bills for the whole year.' He's exaggerating, of course, but he thinks Pietro should have grasped it by now. This time yesterday, they were having a serious conversation about finance, but now it's back to 'normal'. He guesses that Pietro's done his good deed for the decade, and now the natural order's been restored or something.

'Relax, it's a two-for-one opening special and I've still got some cash left over from yesterday.'

'But we got our third warning from the electric company today, and...'

Pietro places a hand on Lance's thigh for a moment. 'I was right about yesterday, and I'm right about this, too. Besides, with you around, I don't need Queer As Folk anymore.' He winks, and Lance sighs in exasperation.

'You're missing the point.'

'You're the one missing the point, Lance. I gotta go get my geography book, I'll say hi to Tamara for you when I get to class.'

'Pietro, wait!' Lance says, jumping to his feet, but a hand on his shoulder stops him from following. 'What!' he asks, spinning round angrily to see Scott Summers glaring at him through those disgusting ruby quartz glasses.

'Look, I don't like you either, Alvers, but Jean wanted me to speak to you.'

'Can't this wait, Summers?'

'I'm not going to try and fit with your schedule, so just listen. The Professor knows you Brotherhood Boys are having money trouble, and...Look, I wouldn't mind leaving you to deal with the problems yourself, but Jean's a way better person than I am and she wants to make sure you're okay.'

'I told her yesterday; we don't need your pity or your charity. We can take care of ourselves.'

'Are you sure? Because the Professor _will_ help, however many times you've tried to kill us.'

Lance clenches his fist and tries to come up with a suitable rock pun, but Pietro's back at his side before he can. 'Hey, Lance, is this asshole bothering you?'

Lance rolls his eyes but can't help smiling. 'I can handle goggle boy just fine, thanks.'

Scott rolls his eyes and mutters, 'Whatever,' before walking back to the X-table.

'I thought you were going to get your geography book,' Lance says almost accusingly.

'Superspeed, remember? It doesn't take two minutes to grab a textbook, so I figured I'd bring you that Excedrin I promised.' He holds out the box but Lance doesn't take it.

'What's up?'

'Do you...I mean, it might be easier if we let the X-Geeks help us.'

And Pietro explodes. 'Have you lost your mind! Asking the X-Geeks for help!'

'Just a loan, or some free food. You haven't stayed with them. One meal there would fill Fred up, even without seconds.'

'Lance...'

'Don't do that; don't be sympathetic when you're not even trying to help. Have you seen the bills, Pietro? Look, when you guys are wasting the last available money we have on twenty-dollar coffee, I'm gonna be at Pizza Plaza begging for a job. When you were drinking an obscene amount last night, I was counting up your bill.'

'So, what, you want me to make out with you again? Cuz Summers over there is still staring, and I don't want him perving over us.'

Lance grabs Pietro's shoulders. 'Can you take this seriously for five minutes?'

Pietro pulls Lance's hands away. 'If I took this seriously, I'd end up depressed and annoying like you, and then there'd be no one to cheer you up, resulting in a spiral of anxiety and sadness which would never be resolved, and then we'd probably fit better in the Hallmark channel's lunchtime line-up than Bayville High.'

Lance sighs. 'Fine. But you have to buy me a frappuccino when I get back from job-hunting.'

'Nah, you can have the free one,' Pietro smirks.

The bell rings, echoing through the quad, and Lance turns around to go to chemistry class.

'Good luck with the whole pizza thing,' Pietro says, squeezing Lance's hand before walking sedately – for probably the first time ever – towards the geography room.

Lance pauses, watching him go, and thinks that maybe everything will be all right.

**  
End **

OK, I really hate this fic (probably because of the years of editing required), but apparently it's not all that bad...so, what do _you_ think? Review and receive much love. And a cookie.


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